


tant que je suis avec toi

by scocoaphobia



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Eventual Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers, I love the two of them so much, Laurette - Freeform, M/M, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Smut, Teasing, Under-Desk Teasing, and i really love writing canon era things too, because there can never be too much laurette, fic #3 for this ship, so why not, they're both just so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scocoaphobia/pseuds/scocoaphobia
Summary: He had joined the war in the hopes of accomplishing just that— to especially focus on what he believed in, and to fight so valiantly to finish what he had started.What he did not prepare for was a man who would catch his attention.A man who would make his heart aflutter, would make his chest fill with a longing so deep that he knew could not be filled by simply finishing the goals that he had set for himself.





	tant que je suis avec toi

John Laurens always swore to himself that he would never fall in love, that none would ever be able to catch his affections, much less his attention.

After all, what was love, but a bothersome emotion that would only cloud your thoughts? He had too much things to think about, so many thoughts and words and things to do and accomplish, that even liking anyone, or even the mere thought of it, would prove to be such a distraction.

 

He was not dumb, nor was he stupid.

 

But the moment that man had entered into his life, he knew he was done for.

 

Even as a young man, he had decided to himself that he would not take a wife, or a family, despite his father’s— and the society’s— urging. He had always confided in himself as a rather independent man who was capable of working everything out by himself, fighting for the cause that he so firmly believed in. He had always thought that that was how he would begin his life, and how he would end it— working for the freedom of not only his beloved country, but as well as the country’s minority: slaves who had no voice for themselves. He was to be the impetus of the movement, the man who had fought so valiantly for the rights of his black brothers who had lived their entire lives beneath the shoes of the privileged.

 

He had joined the war in the hopes of accomplishing just that— to especially focus on what he believed in, and to fight so valiantly to finish what he had started.

 

What he did not prepare for was a man who would catch his attention.

A man who would make his heart aflutter, would make his chest fill with a longing so deep that he knew could not be filled by simply finishing the goals that he had set for himself.

 

When the Frenchman arrived in the country, he seemed to perfectly blend in among the locals— ragged clothes, and a certain flicker in his eyes that screamed of the want of change. And though no one seemed to bat an eyelid at him, the minute John had seen him, he found it difficult to tear his eyes away.

 

After all, who could miss that formal, yet forcibly casual stride? Who could miss the way the man seemed to hold himself up with high regard, a brave front, and a chin raised, despite the fact that he seemed to be nothing more than a passerby?

And, of course— who could miss the way he looked? With his hair tied back tightly in a neat ponytail, revealing the handsome set of features John knew he would love to get lost in, to touch beneath his fingers and memorise every line, every curve. And those eyes that screamed of revolution, of change— gentle yet fiercely determined eyes that he knew he could stare at all day.

 

It felt like ages ago when they had first met— the Frenchman’s English was still terribly broken, his words and accent dripping heavily from his tongue. John considered it a treasure, a pleasure to have known him since his early days within the country— had you met him know, he barely sounded anything like he had been before.

Their circle of friends had managed to increase, as well— it was no longer only John Laurens, the brave American, and the marquis de Lafayette, the noble Frenchman— there was also Alexander Hamilton, yet another immigrant from a world away with a fiercely determined attitude, Hercules Mulligan, a tailor whose actions only few ever knew of, and Aaron Burr, a smart, intelligent man, though he never seemed to want to be around them often.

 

And though Laurens would often look back on the days where it was only Lafayette and himself, wanting nothing more than to spend the time with him and him alone, he found that the company of the others often distracted him from the underlying feelings that he had harboured for the Frenchman, ever since he had met him.

 

The more the days passed by, the more he found it easier to hide his true feelings— and yet, the more harder he found it to restrain himself and his feelings from growing into something more. He would smile and grin and laugh and talk, call Lafayette a close friend and a man whose ideals and strong resolve led him to admire him and look up to him. But who was he fooling, but himself? Even as his strong feelings for him— feelings that pushed past admiration and friendship— only continued to grow more and more each and every day, he knew that nothing would ever come out of this.

 

Besides, men were not even allowed to be together, much less harbour feelings for one another. That was what he had always feared— the rejection, the look on the Frenchman’s face that was surely to come— and would surely haunt him for the rest of his days— if he were to find out the truth about John Laurens.

 

What were he to say, then? What would he do?

He knew he would scrunch his face up in disgust, would possibly even say a hurtful word, or worse, completely end their friendship.

That was what he feared, what filled his thoughts as much as Lafayette filled his heart with longing.

 

And so, that was how he spent the rest of his days— with a loud laugh and a wide smile on his face, yet with a hidden hurt and an aching heart.

 

The night after Alexander’s wedding, where the five of them were celebrating the occasion, was the night which he had always dreaded.

 

Everyone was drunk, and making merry, laughing loudly and teasingly sharing jokes with each other around the table they were all seated at. Rowdy comments were exchanged, along with sloppy, drunken grins.

And a hand, amongst many other things, had been placed on top of John’s knee.

 

At first, John had not thought of anything against it— Lafayette, as usual, had been sitting beside him, and he had always been the sort to pat anyone on the back or even pull into a hug. A hand— Lafayette’s hand— innocently placed on his knee beneath the table was surely nothing new. After all, the Frenchman seemed to be unperturbed by it, still grinning and nodding his head at every exchange in the conversation, and so he decided to do the same, keeping on an act that would surely avoid any questions.

But it was when his hand slowly, gradually began to move up towards his thigh, was when he found himself stopping to pause, lips pursed and breath stuck in his throat. It was a new sensation, one that he was not accustomed to— and one that certainly scared him, frightened him.

 

Lafayette seemed to carry on the conversation casually with their other friends, as if there was nothing that had been going on beneath the table. His hand was trailing further and further up his thigh, until it stopped right at his groin. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and lifted his head up back to his friends, smiling somewhat politely at them.

Lafayette turned his head towards him and smiled innocently, though his eyes held an entirely different look, which he couldn’t seem to place. It almost felt as if he was being scrutinized beneath his gaze, and John quickly turned his head the other way and tried his hardest to focus on what all the others had been saying, though their voices seemed to be nothing more than senseless babble.

 

Just as he thought that the situation could not grow any worse, he felt the other’s hand slowly rub against him, palm pressed against his breeches. His breath hitched, caught once more in his throat, and he paused, mouth open, the words that he wanted to say completely gone from his mouth. Lafayette seemed to take notice, and pressed harder, rubbing faster, and John was thrown into a frenzy of the sensation mixed with uncertainty and fear and pleasure and _more,_ he wanted _more_. He bucked his hips once, twice against the Frenchman’s hand, completely silent, until he realised that the others might take notice of what he was doing and stopped completely.

He stole another glance at Lafayette, eyebrows furrowed with confusion, to which he was only greeted with a raised eyebrow, as if denying anything that had been going on beneath the table. Lafayette, however, only seemed to double his pacing and his movements, until John felt his breeches tightening against him, a wet stain on where he had tented.

 

For a few moments, there was only that silent exchange— Lafayette’s hand rubbing against him into wetness, his slick all over the front of his breeches, and him trying to refrain from moaning, from making any noise.

 

All seemed to go well— nobody else at their table had seemed to notice anything, the conversation flowing as it had always been, even Lafayette laughing and making jokes, leaving John the only one completely silent.

 

Until Lafayette suddenly stood up abruptly, causing the heat that came from his hand and the friction against John’s breeches to be completely gone.

 

He brought his tankard to his lips, gulped down what remained of his beer, and slammed the tankard back down onto the table, wiping his lips with a sleeve. “I need must be going, my friends,” he said with a wide, yet apologetic smile. “I am afraid it is already growing too late for me. I need to return to my quarters.”

 

And, without ever so much as a backward glance, Lafayette stepped away from their table, congratulating Alexander once more with his wedding, before walking out of the tavern, completely leaving John speechless— and, embarrassingly enough, still erect. All the rest of the people around them greeted him good bye and good night, save for John.

Almost as if nothing had happened, the conversation was back, and everyone had returned to their grins and their laughter— until, that was, a voice that called John’s name shook him out of his reverie.

 

“Yeah?” he began, glancing up, trying to act normal— and obviously failing. He had finally caught his breath and his voice, now that Lafayette was gone, but the need, the _aching_ need was still evident in his actions.

 

“Were you listening?” It was Alex. John shook his head.

 

“You look pale,” Hercules chimed in, taking a large gulp from his tankard. “You sure you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m—“ John coughed, trying to clear his mind past the alcohol and the lack of Lafayette’s warmth. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” He abruptly stood up as well, not even bothering to finish his drink— and trying to hide the remnant of what had just happened with his coat. “I, umm. I gotta go. Bye. Night.”

 

Had he glanced back, he was sure to see the curious, confused faces of the three other men who were left at the table. Glances and shrugs were exchanged— though, the minute he stepped out of the tavern, the laughter had resumed.

 

He ran down the dimly-lit road, towards a tall figure who he knew was unmistakably Lafayette— the drunken sway in his walk, the tall, almost intimidating stature. Besides, there was barely anyone else on the street— it was late at night, and everyone, save for his friends and himself, was already asleep.

 

“Laf— Lafayette,” he began, once he had finally caught up with him. He tugged on his sleeve, his grip on him tight. The Frenchman simply looked at him curiously, an eyebrow raised and lips pursed, almost as if there was no sign at all of the earlier event. It irritated him— how could he simply act as if nothing had happened between them?

 

“I don’t— I don’t understand,” he continued, eyebrows furrowed. “What were you doing? What _are_ you doing? What did you think you were trying to do, with— with that?”

The sudden outburst seemed to throw Lafayette off a little, his eyes widening with surprise— though he kept silent. It only irritated John further. “Answer me, Lafayette. What were you trying to do? Were you trying to prove something? I don’t understand you.”

 

Lafayette sighed, and tried to break free from John’s strong grip. “I thought it would be obvious,” he spoke, a resigned tone in his voice. “The way you would always look at me. Do you think I will not know? Do you think I do not see the small glances you would always take?”

His words seemed to shut John up, and he let go of his sleeve. This was the moment he had always feared. He stepped away, closing his eyes and lowering his head, bracing himself for the clear rejection that was about to come.

 

“I like you,” Lafayette continued, sighing once more. “I— I like you, that I am very much sure. More than a friend, John— you have always caught my eye, my attention, _my affection_. And I thought— I had been thinking— thought that maybe, _maybe_ , you have returned such feelings towards me. With the way you would talk, the way you would act, _especially_ with the way you would look at me.”

 

John seemed to be completely dumbfounded and frozen in place, his heart thumping loudly against his chest. Were the words he was hearing true? Did the man he had grown to love really return his feelings? He looked up, staring back at him, and opened his mouth— but before he could say anything, Lafayette had cut him off with his words.

 

“I am sorry,” he apologised, every bit of his words and his look filled with regret, with fear. He knew he had stepped beyond the line— and he wouldn’t be surprised if John would chastise him, would tell him off, would even cut him off completely.

“It was stupid— this is stupid, and I apologise very much for my actions. I— I have acted without giving it further thought.” He turned his back on him, and started to walk away, back to the direction he had taken. “I am sorry, very sorry, John. Good night.”

 

John wasted no time at all in hurrying back towards him, running to him and holding his wrist in a firm grip. “Listen, Laf, I—“ he began, tugging him towards a small, narrow alley. He looked around— thankfully, there was still no one else around. He turned back towards the Frenchman and stared deeply into his eyes, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

“I— I like you. Too. I like you a lot, I always have,” he began, the words pouring freely from his mouth. “Ever since I’ve met you, ever since I’ve seen you. I— I’ve always liked you. Probably far beyond any words I could ever say.” His hand flitted around as he tried to explain himself, eyes suddenly looking everywhere but Lafayette’s. “You— you are brave, and there’s no denying that. You have this fierce, strong, determined look in your eyes, especially when you speak, and yet—“ He lowered his eyes and shook his head, laughing— he felt stupid. “And yet… M’sorry. This is— this is dumb. I’m being dumb. I—“

 

Before he could say anything more, Lafayette crashed his lips against his, catching him in a long, deep kiss. Shock filled his every senses, and he tensed up, but soon enough completely gave way and melted into the kiss, eagerly kissing him back, reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him closer against him.

They stayed that way for what felt like ages, yet once they pulled apart it felt like a flash. John whined at the loss of contact, but one look from Lafayette’s eyes quickly comforted him.

 

“I’ve _always_ wanted to do that,” he said breathlessly, one hand cupping the other’s face, just before he pulled him in for another kiss. Lafayette pressed him against the wall, their bodies pressed closely against each other’s, Lafayette’s hands wandering down to his waist. John opened his mouth a little, granting entrance for Lafayette to explore, to taste. He moaned into the kiss, pulling the taller man against him, trying to get as much of him as he could.

 

Lafayette pulled away once more, but before John could say anything, he quickly began to talk. “We should, umm. Go back, back to my quarters. If, if you want. Take it from there, maybe?” There was almost an innocent look in his eyes, yet his words betrayed his expression. John simply grinned and pulled him back towards the direction they were walking.

 

Thankfully, when they stepped out of the alley, there was still nobody else in the streets— the night, they decided, was for the two of them to own. John held Lafayette’s hand tightly as they walked, as if he didn’t want to ever let him go. There was a grin on both their faces as they walked beneath the streetlights and the moon.

 

They only pulled apart from each other when they have reached Lafayette’s quarters. Surely, with the return of the occupant, a few people taking care of his temporary residence would surely stir awake— and the least that they wanted to do was cause any trouble, or run the risk of being seen. The narrow halls were dark, the only light that showed them their path was the moonlight that shone through the small windows. Lafayette led him up the stairs, footsteps slow and light and quiet, and John trailed right behind him, following him into his room.

 

The minute they had closed the door, they were once again upon each other. John had pulled him eagerly into a kiss, hands cupping both his cheeks, and Lafayette wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing him against the wall. John was quick to tug off both his and Lafayette’s coats, leaving them sprawled all over the floor. Lafayette carried him towards his bed, lips still locked together in a kiss, even as they shed the rest of their clothes, leaving nothing but the shirts that were still on their backs. John pulled him down towards the mattress, his arms still wound tightly around his neck. He pulled away for a moment, laughing and grinning at the man above him.

 

“Shall— shall I take you?” It almost felt silly for Lafayette to say such words, considering that he had initiated everything back in the tavern. The man’s childlike innocence and cautiousness caused John to laugh and shake his head, before craning his neck to place a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “Of course,” he whispered back, eyes half-lidded as he stared up at him. “I am yours for the night, and forevermore.”

 

Those words were enough for Lafayette, and he pulled John’s shirt up, leaving him completely naked. John laughed bashfully, heat rising to his cheeks as if he were a young maiden. Lafayette pulled back for a moment, taking in the wonderful sight beneath him— his love, finally there before him, finally his for the taking, finally his to love. He stared at him breathlessly, and he ran his fingers against his chest, trailing down his stomach, down to his hips and his member and to his thighs. John lowered his eyes, almost embarrassed as he lay beneath Lafayette’s gaze. “You are so beautiful,” the Frenchman whispered, completely in awe at the sight before him. “Far more beautiful than I have ever imagined.”

 

Lafayette leaned in and pressed his lips back against John’s soft, warm pair, and John entangled his hands in his hair, tugging off the ribbon that held his hair back. Lafayette’s hands wandered down to his sides, trailing down his hips, every movement soft and gentle and leaving John to want for more. John tugged at the hem of his shirt, a gentle plea for him to take it off, to which Lafayette obliged, tossing off the last fabric that still covered his skin. John’s eyes completely widened at the sight before him— Lafayette was toned and muscular, far more than he had been, and his eyes trailed down all over his body. How was he ever able to catch the affections of such a man as he? Lafayette was beautiful, almost god-like, there was no denying that, and the mere sight of him took his breath away.

 

Lafayette kissed him back once more, his lips slowly trailing down his neck, and John tilted his head up to allow more kisses. Lafayette nipped and bit and sucked at his skin, leaving marks all over his neck and his collarbone and his chest, and with every mark he sucked John let out a moan.

He kissed down his stomach, lips touching nearly every bit of skin, and when he had gotten to his hips John bucked his hips up, a little impatient. His lips trailed down to John’s member, his hand working him back into hardness as he kissed the tip of his shaft. John shivered, his legs instinctively closing, to which Lafayette held his legs open once more, just before taking him in his mouth. He whined and groaned and bucked his hips up once more, the warmth from Lafayette’s mouth driving him into a frenzy. Lafayette bobbed his head up and down against him, pausing to stop and suck at the tip at times, before lowering his head and taking his entirety inside his mouth. John gasped, his grip on Lafayette’s hair tightening.

 

The Frenchman pulled away when John’s whimpers grew louder, and he leaned in to press his lips against his forehead. The loss of heat was enough to make John whine, more especially so when Lafayette pushed himself off the bed and walked off towards a small drawer in the corner of the room. Lafayette opened one of the drawers and took out some oil, before he walked back towards John.

John, knowing what needed to be done, poured some of the oil on his hand and wrapped his hand around Lafayette’s member, half working him into hardness, and half slicking him up. Once he had finished, Lafayette poured some of the oil on his fingers, then looked up at John with an inquisitive look. John simply nodded his head as he rested back against the pillows, the silent exchange enough of a confirmation for Lafayette to rub a finger against John’s entrance, helping him ease up, before he slid a finger inside. John gripped at the sheets beneath him, the intrusion, though small, a sensation that was completely new to him. When John had eased up a little, Lafayette slipped in a second finger, and eventually a third, thrusting them in and out and curling them inside him, hitting a spot that left John moaning loudly.

 

Once he was certain that John had been stretched enough for him to enter, he pulled his fingers out of him and leaned towards him to press a kiss against his forehead, then to his lips. “Are you ready, love?” he asked, eyes still holding a cautious stare. John leaned forward and kissed his lips, before giving him a reassuring smile. “Ready.”

 

Lafayette pulled away, adjusting himself beneath him so that the two of them would be comfortable. John wrapped his legs around his waist, and Lafayette slowly, gently, carefully pushed inside him. The stretch hurt him a little, and he bit his lower lip and gripped at Lafayette’s back tighter, and Lafayette had to pause for a moment to make sure that he was alright, that he wasn’t hurting him too much, before pushing himself further inside him, until he was completely inside him.

 

He kept up the slow pace, thrusting his hips in and out of John, until John’s impatience gave way and he furrowed his eyebrows and pressed himself against him, urging him to go faster. Lafayette picked up his speed, slowly but gradually, until his pace soon increased and John was left groaning, panting against him, trying to keep up with his speed as he attempted to push his hips back against him. Lafayette had once more found the spot that had John whimpering against him, and managed to skilfully hit that spot whenever he thrusted against him, and John dug his nails deeper into Lafayette’s skin, leaving small, crescent-shaped marks on his back.

 

“Laf— Lafayette,” John groaned, breaths shallow and heavy. “God, Laf, you’re so big, and so good, and— _and—_ Laf, fuck, _fuck_ , you’re perfect, I’m close, I’m close, _fuck_.” He was whimpering and moaning against his skin, biting his lower lip in an attempt to restrain himself from making any more noise. “Laf, fuck, I’m close, let me— let me come, I _need_ to come.” Lafayette didn’t seem to pause or slow down, but instead simply ran his hand against his face, pressing his lips against his, before speaking. “Come for me, my love.”

 

His words and his low, husky voice was enough to drive John past his edge, and he came all over their stomachs, tightening against Lafayette. It only took Lafayette a few more moments before he released as well, pumping his seed inside of John, causing the two of them to groan as his hot release spilled inside of him.

The two of them paused for a moment to catch their breaths, chests heaving. Lafayette pulled out from him before he could go soft, and he paused for a few more moments, breaths still jagged and heavy, until he had finally managed to calm himself down. He stood up and took a clean piece of cloth from one of the drawers from the corner of the room, and wiped himself and John clean.

 

John moved a little to the side of the bed to give some space for Lafayette, who fell down on the bed, completely exhausted. He turned around to face him and slung a leg and an arm over him, pulling himself closer against him. Lafayette pulled the sheets over the two of them, covering their bodies.

 

“You were perfect, so perfect,” Lafayette whispered, giving him a small, contented smile, to which John returned it with one of his own. “You were far better than I had always imagined— you were wonderful, so perfect. I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” John replied in a hushed tone. He leaned in forward and kissed him, just before resting his head beneath his chin.

 

“Our love— it is still forbidden,” Lafayette began, rubbing his hand against John’s back. His voice was small, almost afraid. “I am very certain that we would be condemned, shall we be found out. Nobody will approve of us.”

 

“So what would it matter?” John replied, pressing himself closer against him. “As long as we love each other— I think that would be enough. I don’t care if we have to hide it, or keep it to ourselves. I don’t care what anyone else would say, or do— as long as I’m with you, I’m alright. I wouldn’t mind.”

 

His words were enough to cause Lafayette to calm down and smile, and the taller man pulled him in closer, holding him tightly in his arms.

 

“I love you,” Lafayette, whispered, sighing heavily. “I love you very much, John.”

 

“I love you, too,” John replied, closing his eyes, resting his head against his chest. He fell asleep within minutes, filled with love and happiness and contentment, wrapped in the arms of the one he loves the most.

**Author's Note:**

> I really, really love messing around the canon era and writing fics for that time .
> 
> This fic was inspired by an old rp I've had with a friend, and I've simply converted it and expanded the story a little. (We only rped the scene in the tavern.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this ! This ship / pairing is my absolute favourite, and I very much enjoy writing content for the two of them .
> 
> Kudos are appreciated, and comments are well-loved ! I accept criticism, too.  
> Follow me on Tumblr : s-cocoaphobia.tumblr.com  
> Thank you for reading !


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